A Letter Home
by morning sunlight
Summary: Sam, John and Dean write letters while Sam is at Stanford
1. From Sam to Dean the first

**A Letter to Home**

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Disclaimer: Neither Sam nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details. 

Summary: Sam writes home from Stanford not long after arriving.

Rating: I mild curse

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Dear Dean, 

You would probably find it amusing to know that this is not the first time I have started this letter. It's not even the second or third, there is a growing pile of screwed up balls of paper next to me on the floor. Why is it that it is so difficult to write to you? Even the assignments I've been doing haven't been this hard to write, do you realise that?

I wanted you to know that things are okay here. I'm beginning to settle in although I'm still finding it quite strange; it's so different to anything we've ever really known. I've got myself a job – in the library. I know what you said but a bar just didn't feel right, no matter what you said about the chicks. Anyway, I'd probably be more likely to meet the right kind of girl for me in the library. I may as well be honest with myself. You'd be surprised I've been to a couple of parties (not many – nowhere near as many as you would consider acceptable! But my assignments are up-to-date and I'm getting good grades so far. You don't need to say it – I hear it all the time in your voice 'Geek Boy'). I've started to make friends too. It's odd, it's a feeling I can't say I really remember from school, I suppose we hardly ever got past the 'new kid' stage and with the hunting and, well, everything else, we never really fit in did we? Here without the hunting and everyone is new, I can be a 'normal' person – not as easy as I thought it would be. I'm trying to blend in and camouflage my edges but I keep turning up things that I don't know how to handle. It's difficult when they talk about home and their old school and friends but most of all it's hard when they talk about family. Do you think they'd understand if I told them about you, me and Dad? How we lived? What we did? How it felt? Why we did it? What if I told them about me and Dad without you? At least, you are proud of me, aren't you Dean? Dad, does he even give a damn now that I've gone? Don't worry, I've no intention of telling them anything about my past but it makes me sad that because I say nothing about the past, I say nothing about you, about how you did all you did for me and got me here where I wanted to be.

It's odd; I keep turning around looking for you, to tell you something. I know you're with Dad and that I made the choice to come here but I don't think I've ever gone so long without talking to you. It's hard. I know you told me to call but somehow I just think if I do, everything will fall apart. I'm not sure I could continue this if I spoke to you right now and heard your voice. Anyway, I've got to stick this out. I have to make this work. I'm not a hunter like Dad. I won't become a hunter like Dad. I want… something else, anything else.

I'm sorry for leaving you behind. In my heart, I hoped, right up until you put me on the bus and walked away, that you would come too. I never wanted to leave you behind.

It's weird but somehow without you here I feel like something is missing. I suppose it's just because I'm used to sharing rooms with you, more than that I'm used to sharing my life with you – everything was always so close and intense – you do know that life isn't like that for other people don't you? No-one here would understand if I told them how I feel not to have you here. Some of the girls have talked about being homesick but it isn't that – I think you warrant a whole new word – I'm feeling distinctly 'Dean-sick' as opposed to my usual 'sick of Dean' feeling.

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you. I know it hurt you to see me leave as much as it hurt me to go, if I'm honest probably more. At least I had the excitement and the future to look forward to and the fact that it was my decision. It's not too late, you can come join me anytime – we'll find a way to make it work.

Dean, I need to tell you this but it's difficult to know how to put it into words. In my heart, I have believed for a long time now that the life you and Dad are leading is not the life Mom wanted for us. I know that you will say I don't remember her and that you and Dad do and that I shouldn't talk about things I don't understand but Dean, I do understand. I understand, because for all of my life, you made sure that I knew just how much Mom loved me. You told me about what it was like before she died, the things she did and how she smelled and looked and smiled and spoke. Thanks to you, I have a picture in my mind and a warmth in my heart that I believe are the pieces of Mom that you nurtured for me. Those pieces tell me that this isn't what she wants and that as much as she wanted you to protect me and be my big brother, she would want me to tell you the truths you don't see.

You are a peace-maker, Dean. Hell, those guys at the United Nations don't have a patch on you. You could have negotiated down Hitler on a good day. You weathered so many storms between Dad and I and neither of us ever acknowledged it. If the blows we rained on you had been physical, I don't think even you could have stayed standing but they weren't physical, we damaged your soul, your essence. I, for one, am sorry for my part. I want you to know I never wanted to hurt you, but you were just there and … I can't excuse myself. We're getting dangerously near my adding this letter to the growing pile of discards. Some things are just never mentioned between Winchesters, just understood, right bro?

I'm going to close and behave for the moment like I have every intention of posting this letter to you. It's come the nearest of all the ones written so far to actually saying what I want to, what I can and what I think you might just read. What a mess we are! Neither of us very good at talking! Do you think it would have been different if Mom hadn't…? It doesn't really make any difference does it? Mom did die, Dad didn't move on from that, but you and I, Dean, what about us? Are we still trapped on that night? Can you break free? Have I?

Thank you and I miss you. (Five words that I need you to really believe I mean).

Sam

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too please! If people like this and think it works, I have some ideas for a possible series of letters between the brothers (the question remains whether they would actually post them or would they just write them and hang on to them!). For now, I shall post this as a WIP but if this seems to be enough then I shall change it to Complete in a few days. 


	2. From Father to Son the only

**A Letter from Home**

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Disclaimer: Neither John nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

Summary: John writes but doesn't post to Sam a fortnight after he has left for Stanford.

Rating: A few mild curses

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Dear Sam,

This letter is not easy for me to write. I hope you have reached Stanford safely and that you have got sorted and are settling in. I'm sorry for our argument just before you left. You were right we had been arguing for long enough that I should have admitted defeat earlier and made the parting easier for all of us. I can't apologise for the earlier arguments because I would be lying. I wanted to keep you safe and with you so far away, I don't know how to do that any longer. Funnily enough, smart mouth and dumbass that your brother can be, just occasionally he knows what he's talking about and he said to me just yesterday, that I had to count on our having done a good enough job on you, that now you can look after yourself. I know what he means but I'm just used to knowing that my youngest boy is looked after, if not by me then by Dean.

I wish I could take back what I said about if you go, not coming back. I hear it in my sleep and regret it every bit as much as when I'm awake. You can come back Sam. I'm a stupid, old fool who risked everything and regretted it the moment the words were out but was too proud and too stupid to try and take them back and apologise. I apologise from my heart now, now when I'm writing this and again now when you're reading it, too late but at least not never.

I want you to know that I am proud of you, proud of you for what you achieved in school, proud of you for the free ride to Stanford, proud of you for who you are and not just what you have achieved in academic success. Your mother would be proud too. You have turned into everything she wanted and more, everything **we** wanted and more. It's hard to believe now, but your mother and I shared dreams of a future for you. Mary always believed you'd be bright and go to university and get some real clever learning and then a good job – it was such a bright dream, I saw it too and wanted it for you too. In between, I'm sorry, your mother died and it felt like she took everything with her, life, hope and dreams. Another of my blind mistakes, I'm glad you kept her dream for you alive despite everything that our life has been. I hope it all goes well for you from now on.

You won't get this letter until I'm gone. I ask one thing of you when I'm gone, look out for your brother, he only knows this life that I left him, I don't think he really remembers what it's like not to hunt. He'll need your help to change that. I want better than this for you both and you are the key to making it happen – you'll be able to convince him to stop when the time comes.

Again, I'm sorry for all my mistakes and the mess I leave behind, the brother I entrust to your care as your mother and I entrusted you to his all those years ago. I am proud of the strong, wise, caring man you have become and I hope above all else, that life will be good to you and that your dreams will come true.

Your father,

John Winchester.

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**_Author's Note:_** _I think having seen Phantom Traveller that John was not only proud of Sam but that he would be sorry for what he'd done too. The Jerry Panowski character says that John was talking about how Sam was at Stanford. I think he is probably also too proud in a bad way to be able to say he's sorry and admit his mistakes but maybe he left a note for when it's too late to say it in person. Having said that, I've not seen the episodes where he appears for more than a couple of minutes so I still don't really know the guy._

_Dean's letter is on its way. _**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too**.


	3. To my brother the posted

**A Letter to Home (continued)**

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Disclaimer: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

Summary: Dean writes to Sam one month after he has left for Stanford. (Letter from Sam hasn't arrived with Dean – did he ever post it?).

Rating: A few mild curses

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Hey Sam,

This is a new experience – letter writing. Never really had to write letters before, no-one worth writing to, I suppose. Consider yourself lucky, little bro, I even went out and got the paper special – no torn pages from a journal (although I contemplated that before getting this stuff).

You know I said to stay in touch and to let us know you had arrived safe – I'm waiting! I meant it – consider this a big brother order and if you don't do as you're told, I'm coming over there to kick your ass, princess.

You got your haircut yet? Met any girls? Have you even been out yet? Do you know where the nearest bar is? I need to know these things, because when you finally write to me, you're going to invite me to visit and I need to know that you are prepared for my arrival – bro, I most assuredly do not need to know where the library is (unless there's a hot chick there or its haunted and you want me to do my stuff – if you do say so, I'll bring whatever we need).

It's not the same without you here. And no I don't just mean that it's quiet although it is that! Horribly so. You know Dad, he's never been much of one for conversations so without you to talk to, I sometimes forget what my own voice sounds like (no smart-alec replies to that – you were listening and I was not talking to myself for the last seventeen years or most of the time anyway – I could tell by the look on your face when you thought what I was saying was a load of crap).

I've not quite got used to you not being here – be certain that when you come back, there will be plenty of cereal for you as I keep buying it even though you're not here to eat it – habit of a lifetime that's hard to break. Maybe I should load up the Impala and bring it all to you before it takes over the motel room. Then again, maybe you wouldn't want me to visit and I should just post it to you – I could put you a box with this letter. Dad's pissed at me (You're probably thinking it makes a change from his being pissed at you – but if you'd opened your eyes and seen a little more you'd have seen that he was pissed at me often enough too – I just kept quiet and didn't answer back and it blew over quicker). I keep feeding him your favourite meals. He accused me of trying to make him feel guilty about what he said to you about not coming back. Hey man if the shoe fits… On that subject, he didn't mean it – you want to come back, you do it – hell, call and I'll swing by and get you (come for a holiday or for good doesn't matter). I wish I could have driven you to Stanford, seen where you would be, checked it out – did you see I packed you some salt and holy water? Just to be safe. I threw in a dream-catcher and some charms (don't worry, Dad doesn't know – they're not from his supplies, I bought them for you, when you first told me you were going but I didn't want you to think I'd suddenly become a big girl when I gave them to you so… I just needed to know that you would be safe without me there looking out for you - another habit of a lifetime – definitely time I got myself some new habits eh!).

Miss you Sam. Do you know how much time I'm having to spend researching in libraries now? I blame you, this was always your part of the gig and you liked it – I can think of better places to be, man. It's funny though, they remind me of you in a good way, there are times when I can imagine you're sitting next to me with your nose in some tome enjoying yourself (ouch, now that really is too girlie to admit to? I'll run an extra mile tonight to prove I'm no wuss).

The good thing about you being gone is there's more hot water in the shower for me, no bitching about the music in the Impala and when Dad's out I get to choose what's on the TV – see life without you isn't all bad! I'd still rather you were here. I mean not here, but… What I mean is, god, who knew it would be so hard to explain. I wish you could be there, here. Try again. I wish you could have the life you wanted and still be here in our lives, that there was an overlap, not a choice one or the other. I wish we hadn't had to let go of you and you of us, that the two lives could have existed together. I'm glad you've gone though, you deserve better than the nomadic life we've had for years. You deserve all the things you wanted, a home, friends, a job, a wife and kids and to be honest (not something I do often) they are what I would have wished for you too. Make the most of it bro. I have faith in you, you'll make it work.

Remember, I am your macho brother, no matter what you have read in this letter, I can still run further than you and beat you up without really trying, I also drive a way cool car and the chicks dig me but having said all that, I miss you and hope things are going well for you. One last word though – get a girl and go find that bar.

Dean

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too. 


	4. From Sam to Dean the sent

**A Letter to Home

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Disclaimer: Neither Sam nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke and CW for ownership details.

Summary: Sam writes a letter to Dean after receiving Dean's letter.

Rating: nothing really!

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Dean,

It's good to hear from you and I'm sorry you haven't heard from me since I arrived, I started a couple of letters to you but never got round to posting them. Don't worry, this one I will post.

I have settled in, I have a shared room. You'd probably like my room-mate. He's an okay guy, plays a lot of sport and he knows where the bar is and the hot chicks – so you and he would have a lot in common. Me and him less so but it's okay, we get on fine. In some respects, he's easier to get along with than you – at least he goes out and leaves me some peace and quiet to study in. I suppose that was harder to do in some of those motels we stayed in – kind of on top of one another weren't we?

The library is great. I feel right at home there, all those books – they've got some really huge 'tomes' for me to bury my nose in. Only kidding! The amount of work I've got to do is horrendous, so I am spending a lot of time there but I've been to the bar (yeah I did manage to find it). I've also been to a few parties. Not as many as you'd have been to but hey, some things you are good at and some things I'm good at – you probably wouldn't have found the library yet. Impressed to hear that you've been spending so much time in libraries since I've gone, need any clues on how to find all the good stuff? Knew there would be something that would make you miss me!

I miss you too and thanks for saying it. It means a lot. It's strange not having someone there, you there. I find I have thoughts buzzing round my head and no-one to listen. The upside is no-one playing pranks on me either or boring me to sleep with their incessant drone (well apart from a couple of the lecturers). Man, do you know how much music there is out here – you have seriously got to start listening to some different stuff man, you don't know what you're missing.

Thanks for the cereal – that was a surprise – a welcome one, makes this place feel more like home in a good way. Thanks for the stuff you put in my bag too. I know you were worried about me leaving you, about me not being protected but you taught me well. I know how to defend myself against the natural and as for the supernatural – there's been no sign but yeah, I've taken the precautions, discretely I didn't want to worry anyone here that I was borderline lunatic. Thanks for the charms and dream-catcher, you didn't need to do that but thanks anyway. You really didn't need to put the magazine in either bro. I mean are you sure you could spare it – I don't know when you squeezed that in but you will find it funny to know that my room-mates' parents were dropping him off as I opened the bag and it fell straight out – his mother nearly died of shock – you are such an uncouth, base pain in the ass. Much as I hate to admit it, it's probably the reason he and I have hit it off well enough to share rather than him attempting to beat the shit out of me. Not that he could but he doesn't need to know that!

You know if you want to come visit, you're welcome. If you want to come stay, we could work something out. I miss having you around, I miss helping the short and aged – my good turn for the day. What you said about me deserving a better life than the one we had, I need you to know something about that. You made sure it wasn't so bad and if I deserve better then so do you and if you want you could have it. You can leave Dad, Dean. You could strike out on your own and settle down somewhere and get a proper job or like I said you could come here and we could work it out together. We don't have to be soft about it, just turn up; between us we could sort it.

I read what you said about Dad and part of me wants to believe you but after everything he said and did over those last few months, I'm not sure that I can. Horse's mouth and all that, Dean, if he told me himself I'd find it more believable. It's not your place to have to apologise for him either and it's also not your fault what he said or what I did.

Anyway, the library calls, if I want to get paid this week. I shall post this on my way. Thanks for writing, don't forget to come visit. Oh, I know you drive a cool car but you know there are cars out there that don't eat gas and money like your Impala, some of them might even be cool too! Okay! Honestly – it's hard to beat the Impala!

Best wishes

Sam

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**_Author's Note:_** _Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too. There may be more to follow - I'm not sure yet - vague musings muttering at the back of my mind then again they might turn into something else entirely!_


	5. Postcard to my little brother

**A Letter from Home

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Disclaimer: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

Summary: Dean writes to Sam a while after receiving a reply to his letter.

Rating: A few mild curses

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Hey Bro,

Ta for the letter. Not much happening here – just the usual unusual. Travelling quite a bit, you're right the Impala is a gas guzzler and it is costing me a fortune (actually that's not strictly true, if you get my drift!). Had a few jobs round and about, and have gone from Rochester Idaho, to Lincoln, Wisconsin and over to Franklin Corners, Illinois. No fear of getting bored there's too much to be done. Probably more of a move for the next set though. Dad is keeping busy too.

Glad you've settled in and are making friends. Pleased to hear about the job although are you sure you couldn't have gotten something better than the library – that's got to be a real relationship killer. I can just imagine the conversation with the next hot chick you meet, 'So what do you do?' 'I'm a librarian' – not good for you man.

Money a bit tight at the minute so can't spare much but have sent a bit - if nothing else you can get some cereal! ('Fraid I've eaten the rest of what I got before – how do you eat that stuff man? I'm amazed you have any teeth left! I'm sure the packet should say cereal-centered sugar, rather than sugar coated cereal). Take care and let me know if you need anything I can help with.

Dean

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too. 


	6. What I want to say to you Sam, but can't

**A Letter from Home

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**Disclaimer**: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: Dean writes to Sam a while after receiving a reply to his letter. Previous chapter (postcard) is written at the same time and posted; this longer letter will remain unsent by Dean.

**Rating**: A few mild curses

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Sam

I don't know why I'm writing this down as I have no intention of posting it to you and have written you a postcard instead. Like I say, all is fine here and I am working flat out to deal with the jobs that need sorting. You've only been gone six months and it feels like a life-time, a sick, twisted lifetime. It was all easier to put up with when you were here. I hate this life alone but sometimes I think it would break Dad if I left him and I just can't do that to him, not after everything we've been through. It's odd, because at other times, I don't think he'd care that much if I left.

You wouldn't believe how much work Dad is churning up. He seems to be hell-bent on finding way more work than the two of us could possibly imagine. He talks less and orders more – I miss you so much then Sam. I feel like I go for days without having a conversation with anyone. We sit in diners and his head is in some book or paper(I know where you got that from now!) and he doesn't speak from when the food is ordered to when he pays or tells me to. We go back to the motel and he either drinks himself to sleep or he stays awake incessantly researching. On a good night, he tells me to go and get a drink and play some pool, in other words to piss off out of his way and bring back some money. I wonder why I stay; I sometimes wonder whether he really wants me here anymore. I can't tell now how to … I don't know what he wants from me, Sam, and I just feel like somewhere along the line, I'm failing him.

I thought about it what you said, striking out on my own but what would I do, what skills do I have for anything other than this? I'm not like you, I've got no book smarts and if I go for a job, what answers am I going to give as to how I've spent the last, what is it 6 or7 years of my life since leaving school, who's going to want to employ a homeless, uneducated drifter like me. It sucks, so I guess it's better just to stick to what you know huh?

I can't come to join you, but thanks for the offer. Trust me when I tell you that isn't what you want. You don't realise it but you don't mean it or maybe you did when you wrote it but now… Sam, you know what normal is now, you have friends and a life, I envy you that but I'm so pleased and proud that you have it but I can't join you. It would taint it; it would bring this mess crashing back down on you. I wouldn't fit and you would be torn between that and me. Face it, your brother is a freak who isn't going to fit in in the real world.

Having said that, if my world sullies what you have there and you need help, call. I'll come and do the necessary (to hell with anything Dad might or might not say) and leave again happy for having done something for you.

You know when we were growing up, I think you kept me sane, all those cute things you used to come out with, they used to make me laugh, even more when you thought you were being serious. Thanks for being there for me, bro. It has always meant a lot to know that you were there. Do you remember all those questions you used to ask? You wouldn't believe how much time I spent poring over library books trying to work out how to answer the questions so you'd understand – you wouldn't believe how much useless crap I learnt just so I could answer your questions and by the time I'd worked out the answer, you had already moved on and wanted the answer to something completely unrelated and I'd have to start out all over again. Your mind was like a bluebottle with ADHD – flitting all over the place with only a moment's pause in any one place.

I know you don't believe Dad is sorry, but he is. He is alsoan ass and won't admit it to you but he is proud and sorry. How do I know?Well, we did this gig for this guy, Jerry Pansomething or the other. Poltergeist it was. Dad boasted the whole time about how his kid was bright and got a full ride into Stanford – talked about nothing else. The guy looked at me and asked if I'd finished studying now, Dad butted in and answered for me and said 'Dean's a good hunter, this is his sort of thing but he's not exactly the academic type, not like my youngest Sam.' He didn't mean anything by it but god can you imagine how much it hurt. In that moment, I almost hated you but it just made me feel sick, it isn't your fault my life is shit. I remember when I wanted something more than this, when I thought this could all be over but reality bites… this is my life, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health - it's like a fucking arranged marriage.

I'm going to close before I get anymore morose and go and post the postcard I've written to you. This I will not post but I just need to tell someone and hey, you always said my mouth runs away from me and bores you silly so I suppose that's where I've got used to letting you listen to my drivel. Keep well, Sammy. Live the life.

Dean

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_**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too. There will be more to follow (probably in pairs like the last two - a short and a longer one).

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	7. A Christmas Note from Stanford

**A Letter to Home

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**Disclaimer**: Neither Sam nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke and CW for ownership details.

**Summary**: Sam writes a short letter to post to Dean just before Christmas.

**Rating**: A few mild curses

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_**Author's Note:** I apologise in advance. I was in a 'Whoops, there goes Dean, broken again!' kind of mood when I (or should I say Sam) wrote the next two letters. It was Sam who broke him – not me - Honest! I would like to reassure all readers, that all damage is purely emotional and Dean did not suffer any actual physical harm during the writing of this part of the story (no, not even a paper-cut when he opened the envelope). I also have every intention of going at least part way towards mending him before I finish this fic. Can I ever be forgiven? Please review and let me know!

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Happy Christmas Dean

I can't believe I've been here so long, over a year now. Thanks ever so much for the money you've sent, it is much appreciated but don't feel you have to. I know how tight money is for you, I don't expect it but am grateful. I'm sorry I haven't written in ages but you know how it is, everything is always so hectic and I've been keeping busy in ways you would approve of as well as ways you would find tedious.

The amount of work never ceases to amaze me, but I'm managing to come out on top of it all. I'm still hanging on to that job in the library which helps with the bills. I've moved out into an apartment – it's weird, in a good way, having something that I can actually describe using the words 'my' and 'home'. I also have a girlfriend, Jessica. We share the apartment. Things are going well, we are settling in together fine.

I've been getting out more too. Jess loves a night out, she likes to go to parties or out to see friends so we're often out and about. You know I even enjoy it. Don't be too shocked, it is still me, I only go out when I'm up to date with my assignments. At times, Jess is disgusted with me, she said only the other day, that the lecturers expect all students to ask for an extension at some point and that I haven't asked for any so it's about time I did.

Thanks for the postcards. You don't say much on them so I hope things are going okay for you and Dad. You never mention coming to visit any more and you still haven't been. It would probably be awkward now if you did anyway, what with Jess and everything. It's not like I've been able to explain what you and Dad do. It seems like a different life as well as a lifetime ago that I was with you. I do still worry about you though but you know I don't miss the constant moving or the hunting. When you don't send a postcard in ages, I worry that something has happened to you – it's good to know that you are still fine.

I'm sorry I haven't been able to speak the last few times you phoned. Like I said, always rushing here and there, lectures, work, Jess. You know how it is. I'll try and call you over Christmas. I'm going to Jess' parents for the holiday. I'm quite nervous about it. Family holidays, they were never really something we did in a big way were they. Family anything really…

Anyway, I hope you stay well.

Keep writing and keep well.

Sam

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	8. A Heartfelt Apology

**A Letter to Home

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**Disclaimer**: Neither Sam nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke and CW for ownership details.

**Summary**: Sam writes another letter to Dean just before Christmas with no intention of posting this one - more heartfelt confidences.

**Rating**: A few mild curses

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_**Author's Note**: No mending of Dean in this letter (this is another unsent letter)! Sorry, you'll have to wait a bit longer for that._

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Dear Dean,

I don't know how to tell you this. I have written the most god-awful letter to you and I know it will hurt you and I hate myself for it but I don't know what else to say to you. I've said I don't want you to come and join me anymore but it isn't entirely true. I do want you to come, I still want my brother here, as I have every day since I left, but now I know without any doubt, I couldn't make you fit in here. There is no way to make you be like these people and let you still be you. You would have to change so much, there wouldn't be much Dean left and I hate that about this place. I love it here; it's everything I wanted it to be and more. My only regret is that I have to let you go. I'm abandoning you to the life Dad has laid before you.

I read your cards and worry about all the things you don't say on them. Is that why you send postcards, because they don't fit much on them? What is it that you don't tell me now, Dean? I used to feel like I knew everything important there was to know about you, now I barely recognise you from the notes you send. I feel like I don't know you anymore. This place has damaged that one part of my before life that I treasured, the one part I didn't want to change, the part that was us. Without you, part of me is missing but much as I regret it, I am learning to live without it. I don't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that I can survive without you.

I wait anxiously for each postcard from you. If they're late, I worry that you are lying in a hospital somewhere and that Dad wouldn't ever let me know or worse, I worry that it's too late and you've gone. I can't bear that thought and yet I don't write to you or talk to you. I know your calls are getting further and further apart and I know it's my fault. I don't know why you call or write to someone who treats you as badly as I do. I'm sorry. Deeply, truly sorry. I just can't talk to you because I hear your voice and I want to have back that one part of our life before but I can't ask you again to come and join me and I'm not coming back so talking just hurts too goddamn much.

I'm going to Jess' parents for Christmas. It is so daunting. We've never had that kind of family get-together. When I think back we missed so much and half the time, I'm just not sure how 'families' work and am frightened I'm going to lose it all by getting something wrong. Our Christmases were pretty pathetic really weren't they? No proper tree, no turkey, barely any presents and those we did get were necessities not luxuries, new clothes to replace the worn out ones we were wearing at the time, things we had to have anyway. This will be nothing like that and I just dread someone asking about my family and our Christmases or even our life. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for how you tried to make Christmas different to every other day of our sad existence but you shouldn't have had to do that. That was Dad's job – another thing he didn't even try to do for us.

I'm sorry for the letter I'm sending you, you don't deserve that, but then you don't really deserve this one either. You are a better man than I Dean and I ask you to please forgive me for hurting you.

I hope you get what you deserve this Christmas, a better life.

Best wishes Sam


	9. Belated Christmas presents

**A Letter from Home

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**

**Disclaimer**: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: Dean writes the usual postcard to Sam at New Year. Next chapter (letter) is written at the same time and remains unposted.

**Rating**: A few mild curses

* * *

Happy New Year Sam

Hope you had a good Christmas and that you enjoyed yourself with your friends and up at Jessica's folks.

Your Christmas present was late and I know what you'll think, that I forgot about it or couldn't be bothered until the sales but you would be wrong. Time and life just ran away with me but I hadn't actually forgotten about you. Saw this t-shirt and thought of you, hopefully you'll like it too (in case you didn't, I've sent a box of cereal as well – don't tell me your taste in that has changed 'cos I won't believe you).

Here we go again, Sam. Another year, another motel, another grey January day, another sucky diner, another job – this one in Afton, Michigan.

No room left, so take care, need anything you know how to get in touch. Have a great year.

Dean

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Unposted letter to follow directly with Dean's true feelings in._


	10. Dean's New Year Truths

**A Letter from Home

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**

**Disclaimer**: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: Dean writes to Sam a while after receiving a letter at Christmas. Previous chapter (postcard) is written at the same time and posted; this longer letter will remain unsent by Dean.

**Rating**: A few mild curses

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_**Author's Note:** Advance apologies continue. Evidence of broken Dean within. No mending yet but fear not, it is on its way. Will you stick with me a little longer? Please review and let me know! And yes the start of each paragraph does bear a remarkable resemblance to the previous postcard, Dean has fleshed out what he really wants to say but keeps hidden from Sam here.

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_

Happy New Year Sam

Hope you had a good Christmas and that you enjoyed yourself with your friends and up at Jessica's folks. Actually, that's not true. Sure that's what I wrote on your postcard but actually I hope it sucked, so that maybe, just maybe you will look back at our family Christmases and you won't be so disappointed but you'll recognise them for the real effort that went into them for the three of us to be together at some point during the day and do something like a family. It was your arguments with Dad that drove him away altogether the last few years. You know what else, I'm sorry I feel this way because in my heart and soul I want for you to be happy, but I also want you to see that not everything that happened to us as kids was bad, that Dad and I did love you and did want the best for you – we were just crap at showing it.

Your Christmas present was late and I know what you'll think, that I forgot about it or couldn't be bothered until the sales but you would be wrong. I bought it way back, saw it and thought of you. I didn't send it though because part of me was hoping that you'd call, we'd talk, maybe meet up somewhere, even if you didn't come back to see Dad. All the time I knew you wouldn't, it was just an idle daydream on my part and hey when reality sucks, why not pass the time of day with a daydream or two?

Here we go again, Sam. Another motel, another grey January day, another sucky diner, another meal eaten alone. We don't even pretend to make an effort any more. Without you, there doesn't seem to be any point in even making the effort to pretend we're a family now. We just wander in and out of one another's life half the time, pausing long enough for him to give me a new set of standing orders, my latest job, or for me to report back from my last skirmish. I struggle to remember the last time I truly spent time talking and enjoying someone, anyone's company.

I always thought that this is what I wanted, for Dad to trust me enough to let me do jobs on my own but I never realised that this is what it would mean. I've come to dread it. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I fully expect to wind up dead or failing that in a hospital slipping away alone, soon to be forgotten.

I've always prided myself on being strong and being a protector but without someone to protect I'm just lost. I feel like my strength is waning. I'm finding myself questioning Dad more and more of the time, not his actions or instructions but his judgement and only his judgement in one thing. I can't find it in myself to believe in me any longer. When Dad sends me off on a job, I no longer believe that I can do it. I'm a disaster waiting to happen. I find myself constantly asking him if I'm doing okay, is this the right way to… whatever…, stuff I've known and done for years. Decisions I would have made without a second thought before you left, now leave me hesitant and doubting. What would I ever do if Dad wasn't here when I got back? Without you, he's the only thing that keeps me grounded at all.

We're spending more and more time apart and less and less time together even when we are in the same place. The rooms all look the same, the bars all look the same and I'm beginning to think even the girls I pick up look the same. The only thing that changes is what we chase.

I miss you Sam. It's plain and simple. I'm also glad that you don't miss me and that you've finally realised that I can't join you. I'd only spoil it all for you. I'm glad that you've found someone to love and who loves you and I hope it all works out. I'm jealous and I hate that about myself at the same time that all I ever wanted for you was for you to be happy.

Now you can see why I only write postcards – the garbage doesn't fit, no room for sentimentality or pathetic whining. 'Suck it up, soldier.' – sound familiar. It's now my motto. I'm thinking of getting it tattooed on the inside of my arm or maybe across my palm so I can use it to remind myself.

Sam, I'm sorry for the bad thoughts about you that trail through my mind sometimes, believe me, jealousy is tiring and really my heart, the bit that counts anyway, isn't jealous, it's proud of you.

Stay well and safe

Dean

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	11. Dean, I need you to know this, Dad

_**A Letter to Home

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**_

**Disclaimer**: Neither John nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: John writes but doesn't post to Dean when he leaves the motel just before the start of the series.

* * *

Dear Dean,

This letter is not easy for me to write. I've never been that good at letter-writing and over the years, I have left more things unsaid between the three of us than I should have. You know that you and your brother are the two things that are most special in my life since your mother died and before that it was the three of you. I would have given everything to keep the three of you safe and happy.

I wish I could change what happened afterwards. I dragged you both on what has become an interminable hunt for the thing that started it all. I need you to believe me when I tell you, I never believed it would take so long and so much, so much of me and so much of you, Dean. I apologise from my heart now, now when I'm writing this and again now when you're reading it, too late but at least not never.

I want you to know that I am proud of you. You were everything I could have asked for in a son and more. You have followed me to places I never had the right to ask you to go and throughout you protected your brother from the worst, the worst of the evil, the worst of me and the worst of the world for as long as you could. You have been strong enough to let your brother go, but I know how much it hurts believe me, I do, I felt it too. Unlike me, you gave Sam your blessing and love when he left, he knew you were proud of him, he didn't see your hurt, and it takes a strong man to do that Dean. I wasn't strong, he left believing I disowned him and it's my fault he hasn't been back. I know you have tried calling him and writing to him, I know he doesn't talk to you when you call. Keep trying, holding the door in your heart open for him forever and someday he will come back into your life. You will both have changed but I have faith in you both that you will find a new balance. Try again when I have gone and maybe then he will accept what he has unwillingly managed without, because of me.

I have watched you over the last months, Dean. I worry about you. Where has your confidence and self-belief gone? You were always my strong son, a leader, a pioneer, ready to strike out away from me. Is it Sam who has done this to you? When he left did he take that essence away and leave me with just half of you? That is why I'm leaving you now. In the same way, you allowed Sam to become his own man, I leave you now to allow you to do the same. Become the man you can, the man you were before, strong, sure, brave.

You won't get this letter until I'm gone for good, not just leaving you behind to find your own path. I ask one thing of you when I'm gone, leave the hunt behind, follow Sammy's footsteps and find a better life. Believe me when I say, I have always wanted better than this for you both and you can make it happen. Seek Sam's help, he's a man now, let him help you as you have always been there for him.

Again, I'm sorry for all my mistakes and the mess I have always needed you to help me find my way through. I am proud of the man you have become and I hope above all else, that life will be good to you and that you will find a dream you would like to come true.

Your father,

John Winchester.

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_**Author's Note:** This letter bears certain key resemblances to the one from John to Sam as I feel that he would want to convey a similar message to both of his boys; his pride, his acknowledgement of his own failings and the sense of the two of them needing to support one another._

**_Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it and now it would be great if you would review too._**


	12. Times they are changing from Sam

**A Letter to Home

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****Disclaimer**: Neither Sam nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: Sam writes to Dean sometime after February.

* * *

Dean

I know I'm a bit late in replying but you know how it is, work and everything. Thanks for the card and the Christmas presents (or not). The cereal was great and the t-shirt, well what can I say, very funny. I'd have loved to see you buying it, or did you say it was for your brother? Jess saw the funny side of it – even if I didn't. I think the two of you would get on. I was just grateful that you hadn't sent it in time for me to take it with us to her parents. Can you imagine what they would have thought if I'd opened it in front of them, I mean Dean, a t-shirt with 'I can't even think straight' on it? What gets into you man? It's as bad as the porn mag when I first got here. Will you grow up already?

Christmas was unbelievable, completely over the top. Jess' family don't realise how lucky they are but I had a great time and they were really good to me while we stayed. I would never have believed that people would have a tree that size inside the house and to say it was covered in decorations would be an understatement. Virtually the whole house was decked out and they had enough food to sink a battleship.

Hope the job in Afton went well and that you and Dad are okay. You don't mention him in your cards. Is that because you think I don't want to know? I guess even after everything I still want him to be okay.

"Another year, another motel, another grey January day, another sucky diner, another job", maybe you're outgrowing doing this, maybe it's time to look for something else. You know even if you don't come to join me and it would probably be better if you didn't right now, you don't have to keep working with Dad, you could do something else. There are loads of ways out if you look hard enough Dean; you just have to get your act together. Think about it, if you settled down and got a proper job, maybe it would be easier for us to hook up sometime. Things would be easier all round. Do you know what it's like, not being able to tell my friends anything about you and Dad or my past? If you had a proper job, it would be better.

I have been inundated with assignments and am already having to think about what to do next when this course finishes. I'm thinking of staying and carrying on studying here. It will make it easier to be with Jess.

Take care, Dean. Keep safe.

Sam

* * *


	13. What about me?

**A Letter from Home

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**

**Disclaimer**: Neither Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke for ownership details.

**Summary**: Dean writes a letter to Sam, after he receives the last letter from Sam and after he has realised John has gone missing.

**Rating:** some mild cursing

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Advance apologies continue. Dean in small pieces now, well and truly broken – repair kit on the way in next chapter. Will you stick with me a little longer? Please review and let me know!

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_

Sam,

I get it. You and Dad are alike in more ways than either of you imagine. What am I to either of you? I get that now too. Once I've outlived my usefulness to both of you, you move on and leave me behind.

I thought it was different. I thought we were brothers. I thought it meant something. But hey, what do you know I was wrong. So I just need to 'get my act together' is that right? What exactly is going to happen then, Sam? What kind of job is going to fall into my lap? Who would want to employ someone like me, someone with no job skills, no people skills and no home? You can't even tell your friends about me because I'm an embarrassment so what makes you think someone is going to give me a job and that I'll become socially acceptable all of a sudden. I wouldn't even know where to start – this is my life Sam. You want me to throw it all away. I actually do some good here you know. I protect people; I get rid of the evil things that people don't even know about. I stop people getting hurt and killed – there is a value in that even if you can't see it anymore and even if it doesn't fit in with your view of the world – you can't deny it exists because you have seen it, hell, you might not like to admit it but you've lived it.

You know what, I thought my life sucked when you left. I was lost without you here to look after. It took me ages to adjust to us not being 'Sam and Dean' anymore and it just being me, 'just Dean'. That's what Dad would say to people when they asked if he was bringing 'his boys' with him, he'd answer, 'No, just Dean.' I was only important when it was 'Sam and Dean' when I was part of something that mattered.

Dad started sending me on jobs on my own and I found it hard. I've found it hard ever since. I lost faith. I knew it was the right job, I just didn't think I was the right person for it anymore. I looked for other jobs then, but what can I do? I'm not like you Sammy, I'm not clever, I'm not easy to get along with, I'm not even a good person. You despise me, you've never actually come out and said it but I heard it for ages before you left – all the credit card scams, the hustling, the living in motels – I don't blame you for wanting to get away from it all. I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me when I used to phone, for never wanting to come back but just put yourself into my shoes, imagine how I feel. I'm trapped Sammy and I don't know how to get out. I don't know how to 'get my act together'.

Things have got worse over the last couple of years between Dad and me too. I never realised how much I relied on you for companionship, friendship, someone to pass the time of day with. Unlike you, I stopped making friends at school because I never had the time to spend with them and it didn't seem worth it when we were going to move on again so soon. You never stopped did you? You were always optimistic that 'this time' would be different; we would stay long enough to make it worth the effort. I always admired that about you. If I'd have had friends, it would have been harder to do the things you wanted to do, harder to take you to the places you wanted to go. I liked it, making you happy when you were small. It was the small things that did it, not the big ones; the trips to the park, the ball games, the sneaking you to see your friends. I couldn't have done that for you, if I'd hung out with people my age. It was worth it though, it was something I could do for you, something 'normal', something to help you fit in so you didn't have to be just like Dad and me. I never realised it was what would tear us apart in the end.

Never one for much conversation was he? I remember a time when Mom was still alive and he had time to talk, time to spend with me, with you, with Mom, time when we used to have fun together, all of us. I look at him now and don't see that man there anymore. He and I sit at tables in diners and eat in silence. The only time we talk about anything now is when I tell him how the last job I did went or he tells me what I did wrong, how I should have dealt with it. The only other conversations we have are about where I need to go next. He doesn't tell me about his jobs much, snippets every now and again. The only time he gets 'talkative' is a brief period when he's on his way to getting drunk, just before he shuts down completely. Then he talks about you and about Mom and about how things were before and about how you've done well for yourself getting into Stanford, studying, how even though we moved so often you did so well in school. Not me, never mentions anything I did well. Never says I did well helping you, looking after you when he was away, never says I do well on the jobs I do for him.

Well, now he's gone, he's left me, like you left me, like Mom left us. Only Mom didn't have a choice or not the same sort of choice. I can understand it now, how she chose to save her family by letting the demon take her. I don't understand you and Dad though, why you both had to leave me behind so completely. Tell me, what is it that I need to do for you to put it right? Where should I have chosen differently? What should I do now?

Dad's been missing at least two weeks. I don't know for sure. He sent me off on a job which took almost a fortnight, when I got back he'd gone, no message, nothing. I hadn't heard from him in all the time I was gone. I've spent all the time since I got back trying to work out where he might be. I phoned all the contacts I can think of, have been to all the places he mentioned when I last saw him. I've phoned hospitals and checked newspapers. I've even been to a couple of morgues when I saw things in the papers about unidentified dead bodies of the right sort of age. I can't explain to you the dread that runs through me in those places in case it really is Dad this time. More than three weeks and nothing, I don't know how much longer I can keep going like this looking for him.

If I don't find him by the end of the week, then I'm sorry Sammy, but I'm coming to find you. I need your help to find him. I can't keep going on my own. I'm sorry.

Dean

* * *


	14. We can put it right tomorrow

**A Letter Home

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**

**Disclaimer**: Neither Sam, Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke and CW for ownership details.

**Summary**: Sam and Dean return to their motel after an injury during a hunt. Previously unread letters are discovered and a new path chosen for the brothers. (Set shortly after the pilot but no real spoilers)

**Rating**: A few mild curses

* * *

'Geez, just keep still Dean, stay here. I'll just get the door open and I'll help you in.' Sam clambered out of the Impala and ran for the motel room door, searching through his pocket for the key as he went. Turning back, he looked at Dean, 'Christ, Dean, I said to wait. What is the matter with you? Can't you do anything the easy way?' 

'Obviously not. I don't need you to mother hen me Sam. I can manage.' He stumbled and his leg gave way, as his brother darted forward snatching enough of his jacket and arm to keep him from face planting on the floor.

'You're an idiot. What would it take to let me help you in? That thing's claws went straight through your leg, how do you expect to walk on it with the amount of blood that has been pouring out?'

'Give it a break, Sam. My ears are in more danger of dropping off from the damage your whining is doing to them.'

'Well they've not being doing you much good lately. Do you listen to anything I tell you? Don't answer that, I don't want to know the answer. What was that about anyway? You do not have to put yourself between me and every evil thing that comes along. I could have shot it, just the same as you.'

'Yeah, but it would have hurt you first before you could have shot it.'

'What? You mean, instead of it hurting you? Dean, this is stupid, we've had this conversation before. I do not expect you to sacrifice yourself to keep me safe. I know what we do, I know what the risks are and I am not a child anymore.'

Dean dropped on to the bed nearest the door with a grunt of relief. 'Mmm. That's better. Are you going to bring the stuff in from the car? I'm going to crash out for a bit.'

Sam looked in disbelief at his brother. 'No way. Not yet. Not until I've sorted your leg out.' He flicked on another light in the dim room and saw the sickly pallor of Dean's skin. 'Come on, bro. You don't look good, let me sort it out, then you can crash out, but we can't leave it.'

'Just pass me the first aid kit and I'll do it. In fact, just give me a hand to the bathroom and I'll do it there.'

'No, I'm doing it. I don't care what you say. I'm not giving in, you can be as stubborn as you like, but we're doing this my way. Come on, it'll be easier in the bathroom anyway, the light's better in there too.' He leant down, moving his arm under his brother's to pull him upright. 'What have you been eating? You weigh a ton!'

'I do not. And it's got nothing to do with what I eat and everything to do with muscle. I'll have you know this body is a finely honed fighting machine.'

'A finely honed fighting machine that gets its fuel from burgers, fries and sodas. Would you even recognise a vegetable if one turned up on your plate? Come on, help me out here.' Sam looked again at his brother who looked if possible even worse than he had moments before, his eyes glazing. 'Dean, Dean, stay with me here man. Don't lose focus now.'

'I'm focusing Sammy, trust me, I'm focussing.' His breathing hitched and he swallowed repeatedly, fighting the nausea washing through his system.

'Is it that bad?

'Not great Sam, not great,' he said, sighing with relief as Sam lowered him down onto the toilet seat. 'That helps.'

'I'm sorry Dean but we're going to have to get your jeans off, so I can get at it properly.'

Dean nodded an acknowledgement. Taking a deep breath, he loosened the button then pulled himself up. 'Go and get the kit from the car. I'll be ready when you get back.' Sam looked at him, unsure. 'Go Sam, this bit I can manage and if I don't, you know where you'll find me,' he finished pointing his finger at the floor with a wry smile on his lips.

Shaking his head, Sam left to bring the first aid kit and the rest of their stuff in from the car. He didn't close the bathroom or the motel room door, hoping that he would hear if Dean fell. It only took a couple of minutes to grab everything he needed but when he got back, Dean was sat on the floor, leaning against the side of the bath. 'You fell?'

'Not exactly. It was just easier to be here and throwing up than there. I think I ate something off earlier.'

'Do you indeed? No way, it could be shock or pain or maybe that thing had poisonous claws? What do you reckon Dean? It couldn't possibly be anything to do with the fact that you have a whopping great hole in your leg now, could it?', irritation was obvious in his every word as he watched his brother. Dean's head dropped and he stared intently at the floor. 'Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just, I hate to see you hurt.'

'Yeah me too.'

'You managed to get your jeans off I see. You gonna hitch round let me see your leg?'

'No, it's okay. It's not as bad as you thought now I've seen it. I can manage, just leave me the stuff. I'll give you a shout if I need you, pull the door to behind you.'

'I think not. This leg that is supposedly not as bad as I think has already bled through the towel you've covered it with Dean. Now let me see, let me put us both out of our misery.' He reached out to grab his brother's foot intending to help turn him round for a better view.

'Aargh! Watch it! Don't grab at me like that!'

'Dean, I only touched your foot, sure I was going to move it but I didn't, let me see because if it hurt that much it isn't good.'

Dean turned his body towards his brother, dragging the offending leg round, then clamped his hand over his mouth, breathing rapidly through his nose trying desperately to calm his stomach, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

'You okay?' Sam watched as his brother tried to keep his body under control. His breathing slowed gradually as the nausea abated. 'You ready for me to start?' He waited until Dean nodded his assent then lifted the towel Dean had used to cover his leg 'Oh God.' Dean's eyes momentarily caught Sam's before his head dropped back against the bath and the beads of sweat appearing on his forehead appeared to intensify.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to think of anything other than what was happening with his leg. His brother's hands were sure and quick, gentle and thorough but they couldn't stop it hurting and they couldn't take away the nausea he was fighting.

Sam was astounded that Dean had lasted as long as he had with as little complaint, the wound was angry and not only had it gone straight through just near the knee but in part it was long as if the creature had dragged the claw along the edge of the bone and muscle. It was amazing that Dean had been conscious at all, let alone the fact that he thought he could walk from the car. He worked as swiftly as he could, cleaning it as best he could trying not to cause Dean any more pain. It wasn't quick or gentle enough as suddenly, Dean shot up from his resting position, shoving him away with a warning sob of 'Sam!' before starting to retch into the toilet again.

'Hey, just breathe', Sam rubbed circles on his brother's back until the retching calmed, then eased him back to the position he'd had before. He stood up and fetched a glass of water and a damp facecloth. Dean sipped a little of the water gratefully before Sam took the glass back as he noticed the tremors passing through Dean's body. He placed the cool cloth on his forehead and looked at his eyes. Dean was losing his focus but Sam wasn't sure whether, given the work still to do on the wound, it might not be a good thing if Dean actually passed out.

'You going to get on with it?' Dean's voice was gravely and uncertain.

'Sure. You'll be fine.'

'Course I will. I've got an ace lawyer sorting my leg out what more could I ask for?'

'Hmm. Very witty Dean. Now just try and hold still.'

'Not going anywhere, bro. not going anywhere.' He sounded exhausted and Sam turned back to his leg, hoping to get through quickly.

He peered intently at the wound. 'What the hell?'

Grabbing the tweezers from the box lying between them, Dean's hand dropped on top of his. He looked up into Dean's pain-wracked eyes. 'What?'

'I don't know. There's something in there. I'm going to have to get it out. I'll be as quick as I can but I need to make sure it's all clean.' Dean swallowed slowly and nodded. Sam turned back with the tweezers and dug straight into the wound, wincing himself as he heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. He pulled out the offending item, relieved to see it come out in one piece so he didn't have to dig around too much more. It was still too much for Dean who pushed him feebly away as he started to retch again. Nothing left now, but bile, anxiety and pain. Sam waited, supporting his brother's weight as he seemed to get weaker with each stomach convulsion. Eventually it stopped and Dean leant back again allowing Sam to continue with the work on his leg.

Fortunately, the worst of it was over and Sam was able to clean it up and stitch the edges together rapidly and without further incident. He rocked back onto his heels, 'Done. You're all good now. Let's go and get you into bed.'

'Sam?'

'Yeah Dean, it's me. I've finished your leg. Let's get you up.'

'No. I need…'

'Come on bro, let me tell you what you don't need. You don't need to spend any more time sitting on this floor; you need to lie down in bed.'

'I need you to…' he tried again. God it was so hard to think and Sam just kept on interrupting.

'Come on Dean.'

He tried again, 'Sam! Stop!' Dean began to struggle with his t-shirt.

'Dean, what is it?' He knelt down again to help where his brother seemed to be struggling to co-ordinate his limbs. 'Shit! It got you there as well. You didn't say anything.'

'Not as bad.'

'You weren't going to tell me about this bit were you? You've only told me 'cos the other bit was so bad you can't do it yourself. I don't get you at all, man.' Both brothers sighed. The scratches were nowhere near as bad as the leg wound and Sam made quick work of cleaning and covering them before helping Dean up from the floor and through to the bed.

'Cold.' Dean's voice was weak and tired.

'I'll get you a t-shirt from your bag, just hold on.' Sam turned and grabbed Dean's bag setting it down on his bed, he pulled the zipper and started to rummage through looking for a loose fit t-shirt. His hand hit a bundle of papers, which he glanced at quickly before returning to his search. He pulled out an old Metallica t-shirt that he knew was clean and that his brother often slept in, he took it over and helped Dean get it on. 'Don't lie down just yet, I'll get you some painkillers first.'

After the tablets, he helped Dean lie down and get comfortable pulling the blanket over him, then watched as his brother slipped rapidly into a much needed sleep. He flipped the TV on and flicked through the channels, looking for something worth watching. Nothing. Curiosity piqued and he wondered what the papers had been in his brother's bag. Maybe they were something to do with Dad, maybe he could solve the puzzle of where exactly his father had gone, maybe Dean had missed something and if they weren't, he wouldn't read them, he'd just put them back and ignore them.

He leant over to the bag which was still resting on the bed and started to rummage again. It only took a moment to find them again and pull them from the bag. They were all bundled together with a band, he snapped the band off and opened the first of the papers, and began to read,

'Sam,

I don't know why I'm writing this down as I have no intention of posting it to you and have written you a postcard instead. Like I say, all is fine here and I am working flat out to deal with the jobs that need sorting. …'

He closed it and opened the next…

'Happy New Year Sam

Hope you had a good Christmas and that you enjoyed yourself with your friends and up at Jessica's folks. Actually, that's not true. Sure that's what I wrote on your postcard but actually I hope it sucked, so that maybe, just maybe you will look back at our family Christmases and you won't be so disappointed…'

As he went through the pile and read the start of each one, he realised that many were letters to him, letters Dean had written but never posted during his time at Stanford. They were interspersed with the letters he had sent to Dean. Why had Dean written letters and never posted them? He went back to the first and began to read. He looked over at his still sleeping brother. Guilt swept through him, he had never realised just how much Dean hurt when he left.

He picked up the next and read again. 'Well Sam, suck it up, you really are a selfish bastard,' he whispered. Dean never gave a hint that this was what had really been going through his mind. He'd never guessed how lonely Dean must have been feeling, neglected and ignored by his family. Unappreciated would have been an understatement. Sam considered how his own ignorant letters full of complaints about all they had missed out on would have hurt his brother more. If he had truly put some thought into it, he would have known that it was Dean and not Dad who had kept track of birthdays and Christmases and made sure there was some acknowledgement of the day, some semblance of family on those days, and he had ridiculed that, saying Jess' family did it properly.

Reading on he found out about his father's growing distance, leading to Dean's belief that he was the failed son, the one his Dad hadn't wanted despite his every effort to please. Then came the final straw, the absolute desertion of his son, abandoning Dean to a life of not knowing what had happened, weeks spent trawling hospitals and morgues looking for his father before in desperation he had turned to his brother for help. Help he had only begrudgingly given, Sam knew it had been a very fine line he had walked and he had almost refused Dean that weekend, had only given in, in the hope that it would get Dean away from Jess quicker, Dad found and then he'd be left alone again but maybe he'd have had a chance to make things better with Dad. So his reasons for joining Dean had been selfish, what was new? He regretted it, he'd never looked at his life from Dean's point of view, he'd been selfish and Dean had let him get away with it.

These letters provided a lot of answers to just who Dean was, why it was that Dean always put himself in danger to save Sam, why there were so many things he wouldn't say. Sam glanced over at his brother and promised to do better by him. He folded the letters and put them back in Dean's bag, then reached over for his own, he moved aside the clothes until he found the envelope he was looking for and pulled it out. He'd never been sure why he'd kept it after writing it, maybe it was just one of those things that were meant to be. Now he'd seen Dean's unsent letters, maybe it was time for Dean to see his. 'Forgive me, Dean. I won't leave you behind again. I can't hunt forever, but I won't turn my back when I go, I promise you that.' He crossed to the other bed, reaching down he felt his brother's forehead to check for fever, smoothed the sweat slicked hair and settled the cover again, tucking his brother in as Dean had done so often for him when they were younger. He put the envelope on the nightstand propped against the bedside lamp, then moved back to his own bed where he undressed and lay down to sleep. Tomorrow they could start putting things right between them. Sam promised the mother he only knew from the stories Dean had told him that he would make sure of it. Turning out the light he closed his eyes.

* * *

**_Author's Note: This is the end. Thanks for sticking with me. I hope you have felt it was worth the effort to get here. Have I dragged it all out too much? Do I drag this one too much? Reviews would be appreciated. The more episodes I see, the more damaged I think Dean is – am I wrong?_**

_**Further Author's Ramble:** **As a few people have suggested that this should be continued further, I have in part caved to this opinion - it gives me something else to write. This piece will remain complete as it stands, as I think it can finish here, however, I have started a companion piece 'Pick up the Pieces and Start Over Again'. As this story was entitled 'A Letter Home' it seemed wrong to move too far into events without letters. The new story will start before the beginning of this Chapter 14 and go some way to explaining Dean's injury, before dealing with the fallout of the letters. The first couple (maybe three) of chapters will cover in quite a bit more detail the events to the end of this story before moving into new territory.**_


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